The driver, right on cue, turned to the four of us – me, Eve, Pete and the limp form of Liz – and said, ‘In there.’ He emphasised it with a flick of the gun toward another doorway. Steel. With a prominent lock on it.

‘Hey,’ I said, and held up my hands. ‘I’m on your side, remember?’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, kid, sure you are. Inside. Don’t worry, you’re not in any danger. We need you, to keep your smart little girlfriend in line.’

‘Wait,’ Eve said. I thought she was going to go ballistic again, but she stared the guy down, calmly, and when he nodded, continued, ‘Could we maybe have a bathroom break first? Because I personally need to pee like mad.’

He looked irritated, but it wasn’t like bad guys didn’t understand the need to pee. Everybody got that. Not everybody cared, though, and I held my breath a second hoping he wouldn’t just toss a bucket into the room or something, but then he nodded, reluctantly. ‘Go with him,’ he said, and pointed to one of the other guys who’d been holding Michael. ‘Door stays open.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Eve’s voice rose, and she put her hands on her hips. ‘What are you, some kind of perv? You get off on watching teenage girls—’

He flinched. ‘Fine. But you have one minute, and if you’re not done, the door opens hard.’ He jerked his head, and his boy took Eve off out the other door. ‘Anybody else got a shy bladder?’

Pete and I shook our heads. I raised my hand. ‘But I wouldn’t say no to the bathroom, either.’

‘Me too,’ Pete said. ‘In case this is a long stay in jail.’

‘Count on it,’ the driver said. ‘All right. When the girl comes back, you go next.’ He pointed to Pete. ‘You go last, Shane.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because I dislike you the most.’

Ditto, I thought, and smiled at him. He smiled back. I was thinking about how I was going to take the gun away from him, and he was probably thinking about how hard he was going to shoot me when I tried it.

Diplomacy.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Michael, in the cage, raise his head. Funny. In my peripheral vision, his eyes were burning red. I remembered what Myrnin had said about Michael needing blood to fight whatever this force was acting on him … and no matter how strong that cage looked, it wasn’t good enough to contain Michael, or any of the vamps, if they really wanted out.

Turns out I was wrong about that. Michael took hold of the bars – moving quietly – and started to bend them. They didn’t go far. He kept trying, but whatever the cage was made of, it was definitely proof against vampire muscles. Not silver, because it didn’t burn him. It was just … stronger.